The Dream Catcher's Daughter (10 page)

The hole in the playground looked like a
ragged wound. Jason half-expected blood to spurt from it. Perhaps, he should’ve
been paying more attention to the blood-red hound behind him and the
gray-skinned giantess over him, her smile unscathed from the metal and plastic
she’d just
snarfed
. Len tugged on his sleeve.

“Come on!” she whispered. “We have to get
out of here.”

“How? We need a distraction. Your flute is
broken...”

Len patted her jacket, grinning. “You
didn’t think I’d come unprepared, did you? Just start running.”

So Jason did, with Len following behind.
Talshe’s
hand shot out to block their path and Leech fell in
behind them. Len’s hand disappeared inside her jacket and in a lightning-strike
flash she pressed a small flute to her lips. The melody she played wasn’t quite
as resonant, but it was enough to make Talshe clasp both hands over her ears.
Leech, on the other hand, bounded after them, his growls like the guttural
whine of a blender.

The sun had nearly set, and it was getting
harder to see. Jason nearly tripped over a curb, but Len kept him balanced. When
Leech came too close, Len made sure to blast a few notes, effectively slowing
Leech down each time. Jason’s heart pounded, his ankles and heels warm with
electric pain. His sides stitched, and each breath sounded more like a sob. Len
was winded, but not relenting. Sweat rolled off her brow, down her cheeks.
Still, she kept a steady pace, always checking to see how close Leech was,
blasting more music through her flute as needed.

With South Hollow Ave only half a block
away, Len blasted a string of melodies, and Leech froze to his spot. They
turned the corner and Jason’s left leg cramped. He fell forward onto his knees,
gripping his leg. Len bent down next to him. After a few more notes to ensure
Leech stayed put, Len hoisted Jason up, wrapping one of his arms around her
shoulders. Like that they went, their speed more than halved by Jason’s
hobbling. He cussed at Len, telling her to leave him. But Len never dropped
him, never saved herself. Jason hated her. But secretly, he was thankful. More
than thankful.

Len’s house came into view. Leech’s growls
had fallen silent, and the hound itself was nowhere in sight. Len helped Jason
to the door. Inside, she leaned him against the wall and rolled up his pant
leg, revealing a bundled up, twitching calf muscle. She shut the door and
locked it. A door would only buy so much time, maybe none, if Talshe was
concerned, so Jason tried to stand, but his leg seized, and he hissed in pain.
Len helped him inside her house.

They took the hallway past the basement
staircase, knocking over bags. Glass bottles rang like bells as they rolled
along the floor. Len and Jason half-hobbled past the bathroom and toward an
open doorway at the end of the hall. The floor was cluttered with papers and
what looked like wood shavings. On the far wall was a bed. Next to it sat a
nightstand with a wand decorated in feathers.
Len’s room,
thought Jason.

She guided him across the paper-covered
floor, sat him on the edge of her bed, and kneeled before him, her hands
groping his calf. He tried to pull away, but Len didn’t loosen her grip. As he
stared at her, watching her massage the cramp out of his leg, he sobbed.

“Does this hurt?” said Len, stopping the
massage.

Jason shook his head. “I’m sorry. So, so
sorry.”

His head tilted forward, his arms limp and
lifeless. The stone had struck without warning. The pressure in the back of
Jason’s head pulsed as he fell on top of Len. She pushed him off easily, and
then slapped him.

“Wake up!” she said. “Don’t give up on me
now!”

He felt so tired. All he wanted to do was
sleep. Sleep and forget. Forget and—

“Forth!” he gasped, sitting up. He folded
his arms to his sides, hands on top of his chest, and rocked forward. Tears
flowed evenly from his eyes. “Forth,” he whispered.

He looked up and spotted a mirror across
the room. From where he was sitting, Jason thought it looked like he was trying
to pull something over his shoulders.

***

Len forced Jason to lie down then sat on
the floor next to him, a knife in one hand and a wooden flute in the other. She
explained it to him: “Catchers must make their own wand. Otherwise they hold no
power over dreams. Dreams only listen to those who take initiative. Whatever
that means.”

“I think I get it.”

“Really?”

“Dreams only want to be controlled by
those who don’t surrender. Like, they don’t want someone who’s easily thrown
for a loop.”

Len rolled her eyes. “I guess.”

Jason thought about Talshe, about how
stupid he’d been. He should’ve seen that she was real from the beginning. But
he hadn’t known about Dream Catchers and Callers at the time. He glanced at
Len, who’d been watching his face. She grinned. “I can’t tell whether you’re
thinking or just vegging out,” she said.

Jason grunted. “I wish my face would work.
It only gets a couple things right.”

“Yeah, and your voice sounds weird, too.”

Jason glanced over to Len’s nightstand,
and stared at the wand decorated with eagle feathers and deerskin. Len noticed
his gaze, stood, and sat on the edge of the bed. “My father’s. It was the only
thing left of him.”

“How long ago did it happen?”

“Don’t remember. Isn’t that sad? It drives
me insane, sometimes.” Len’s eyes fell, and her smile shrank. “Now Mistress
might die. I mean, our job exacts a huge toll on our bodies. Mistress has told me
that there haven’t been many Catchers who’ve made it past forty. They usually
have an apprentice by that point, though. An apprentice only needs fifteen
years of training, then they can take over and the previous Catcher can die in
peace. Whether their apprentice wants them to or not.”

Len jerked up, eyes wide, her face
flushed. She took to the floor, picking up her knife and near-completed flute.
“Sorry, I’m rambling. You’re probably bored to death.”

“No, it’s interesting. I just can’t show
it.” Another thought popped into his head. “If Catchers don’t live long, then
maybe your mistress is going early.”

Len’s face hardened just as she set the
knife against her flute. She forced the blade forward and cut her thumb.
Cussing, Len stuck the thumb in her mouth before examining it: Not much blood,
but enough to warrant a bandage. When Len returned, she plopped on the floor
and picked up her knife and flute again.

“I told you once, I’ll say it again,” she
said, glaring at the floor, “the Guardian is trying to kill her.”

A few moments later, Len finished her
flute. She played a few notes on it, and an emerald light glowed at one end of
the flute. She handed it to Jason, who regarded it the way he might a crying
newborn—fascination mixed with worry and confusion.

“I don’t want it,” said Jason.

“Too bad.” She shoved it into his hand,
then pulled off the bandage and held up her thumb, which bubbled with blood.
“Just push the green light into the cut.”

Curious, Jason did as she said. The light
sizzled, died, and then Len flinched. Her thumb healed, blood and all. As Len
took the flute back, Jason stared at her thumb.

“That’s cool,” he said.

“It’s part of a Catcher’s job. We’re
healers by nature. But we can’t heal ourselves. Someone else must do it for
us.” She shrugged. “That’s part of the reason why we age fast. We take on the
burdens of others...God, I’m going to ramble some more.”

Jason shook his head, and opened his mouth
to reply. But a loud bang rent the air.

Len stood, gripping the flute tight. “I
can’t use it yet,” she said. “Not for Catching. I need my mistress’s blessing.”

Another bang, like a gunshot, came from
down the hall.

Jason stood, testing his leg. It felt
tight, anxious. But it would let him run if he needed to. Now there was
scratching, followed by a series of bangs. They crept out into the hall. The
bags of trash added an eerie backbeat to the spastic banging—
crinkle ting
bang, crinkle ting bang
. They made it to the kitchen. And everything
stopped. Silence.

Jason moved toward the door. Len tried to
stop him, but Leech was after Jason, so why let someone else go in his place?
He opened the porch door. Nothing here was disturbed. The screen window wasn’t
big enough for Leech to squeeze through, though the door seemed to bend inward
now. Jason’s left leg threatened to cramp. Everything moved fast and slow at
the same time; the door seemed to be miles away, yet Jason was already there,
his hand on the handle, pushing it open. Before him lay the patio. Beyond that,
the empty street and the neighboring houses. He turned back and shut the door
behind him.

He was halfway into the kitchen when he
heard the screech of shattered glass.

“It’s in the house,” said Len. “We can’t
stay here!”

Instead of turning and running out through
the front door, like he’d expected, Jason’s body took him toward the basement.
Len paused, her eyes wide, but then ran after him. She didn’t know, but a part
of Jason, the instinctual half of his brain, told him to meet the beast
head-on. He just hoped the instinctual part had better advice to offer than
just charging.

A bloody wad of muscle, teeth, and claws,
Leech clogged the end of the hallway. Halfway between it and Jason stood the
staircase. But Leech covered as much ground as Jason could in only two strides.
His mouth opened, a tunnel of teeth spinning around on the inside. Jason yelled
for Len to duck, and they both dropped to the floor. Leech flew right over
them, crashing and sliding through several garbage bags, swallowing a couple.
The beast heaved and gagged while Jason pushed Len in front of him, toward the
stairs.

Before Len could descend, Leech tackled
Jason, and the mouth of the stairway swallowed them both. Stairs and lights
flashed by in a blur. Leech seemed distant, a red blot that blinked into view
and then out again. Strangely, Jason felt no pain as he fell. Just the rolling,
tumbling. He kept his head tucked in, hoping that would help.

Everything stopped and Jason flattened
against the floor. He pushed himself up on his elbows. Nothing felt broken;
somehow he’d survived. But before he could think of anything, something thudded
behind him. It growled. Jason stood, woozy, and stumbled forward. The pain hit
him with the force of a truck loaded with cement bricks. Everything felt
shattered and ragged; everything came loose under his skin. A guttural scream
exploded from his mouth.

Leech stood on all fours, though it
appeared its neck was broken and one hind leg was snapped in half, dangling
uselessly as it hobbled toward Jason with a mouth of sharp, unbroken teeth.
Jason tried to crawl, but the hound latched onto his foot and sucked in Jason’s
ankle.

This is what I get,
thought Jason,
for
being so close-minded.

Just as the teeth cut into his shoe, a
flash of blue light engulfed them. Something inside Jason pounded like a bass
drum. Not his heart, but something else, deep inside his body. He wasn’t even
sure what it was, but it felt alive. So alive it felt, the pain vanished from
his body in a wisp of light. And as the light cleared, Jason noticed something
else: Leech had disappeared.

Len cleared the bottom stair, and when her
eyes fell upon Jason, she gasped. Her eyes weren’t truly on him, but slightly
behind him. There, tall and proud, stood the Dream Catcher.

The Dream Catcher reclined back onto her
bed and looked up at Jason. She flashed him what he thought was grin. He
couldn’t tell, because she looked so sleepy, so old. But as with Len, Jason
could see past the gray hair and wrinkles. Youth was still there, but fading
quickly.

Before the Dream Catcher fell asleep, she
raised a fist halfway through the air, too tired to extend it fully, and said,
“Forth, after the Dream Caller.” Then she eased back and fell asleep with her
hands over her chest. She looked too dead for Jason’s comfort. Len tended to
her mistress, patting her head with a washcloth, trickling water down her
throat, and various other tidying duties. After a while, Len kissed her
mistress on the head.

“Sleep peacefully, mother,” she said.

“Mother?” said Jason.

“Well, she
did
adopt me. That makes
her my legal guardian.”

Jason was less interested in parents than
the obvious concern hanging in the air between them. Jason stepped away from
the wall he’d been leaning against. “The Dream Caller’s alive.”

Len nodded. “I think so.”

“No, don’t think. She is alive. Who else
could bring those dreams into reality?”

“The Guardian,” she said.

“Now you’re just being ridiculous.”

“It would make sense! He wants his powers
back. The power he gave to his daughters...”

“Daughters?” Jason shook his head. “You’re
telling me the Guardian is your mistress’s father?”

“No. Grandfather. Twenty times over.
Probably more.” She sat on the ground, her back against her mistress’s bed.
“Adopted, as well. Dream Catchers always adopt. Ever since the first Dream
Caller went bad.”

“
Why’s
that?”

“Because after the first one went bad,
each and every offspring has been just as corrupt. Somehow, before each Caller
died, they had given birth to a child.” Len heaved a sigh. “I can’t understand
how so many people would want to carry on such a terrible legacy.”

Jason looked over at the Dream Catcher,
then back to Len. The way she’d said legacy made him think that, maybe, she
held resentment toward the word. Resentment made him think of Darlene, and the
downright anger she’d held in her eyes before storming off.

“I need to find Darlene,” he said.

She gave him a look as if he’d said he
wanted to lick her toes. “Why?
Talshe’s
still out
there. You should stay where it’s safe.”

“Safe? You call Leech breaking through the
window safe? I’m sorry, but I’d feel safer knowing my best friend is okay and
not sitting in the bottom of a giant’s stomach.” Len offered no further
argument, but her face was still drawn, wary. She pinched the bridge of her
nose as Jason turned toward the stairs. “I’ll be back later,” he said. “I’ll
grab Darlene and bring her with me.”

“What?
Why?
”

Inside, Jason found the break in Len’s
voice cute. He was glad he couldn’t smile—it’d be the biggest, shit-eating grin
ever. “She’s my best friend. My only friend, besides you. I don’t want to lose
her, okay? Don’t make me say more than that.”

Len nodded, biting her bottom lip. “When
you put it that way, it’s best to have your loved ones close by. But she better
not get in the way.”

“She won’t get in my way.” He turned to
head up the stairs.

“Hey,” said Len. “Could you wait at least
an hour? I’m a little dirty. The house’s a little dirty. It could use some
cleaning before our new guest arrives...”

He nodded, then left, wishing he could
wear the biggest Cheshire grin ever.

***

While the past two years were foggy for
Jason, the years before that, back until his early childhood, were not. He’d
met Darlene and her father in Mr. McKinney’s office. Even back then, Darlene was
a spitfire. She hated sitting still, always tapping her foot and shaking her
legs, as though she were playing an imaginary drum set.

As soon as she set eyes on Jason, he knew
they were going to be friends. Maybe not consciously, but something in the back
of his head told him that he wanted to know this girl and enjoy her company. It
had nothing to do with her looks, the strawberry-red dress with white lace
edging the sleeves and skirt. Nor did he care about the beautifully pinned-up
braids that made her look like an Egyptian queen. What made him want to know
her was the way she walked up to him and extended her right hand. He’d taken it
tentatively. Darlene had smiled as they shook.

“Hi, I’m homeless,” she’d said, “and I
wipe my butt with my right hand.”

As he remembered, Jason felt guilty. He’d
been such a dick to Darlene. Calling her dike wasn’t the worst he could’ve
done, but in the time and day they lived in, a comment like that was enough to
send someone over the edge. He just hoped Darlene was still here.

“Forth,” he muttered under his breath.

The sun had set, and the streetlamps
washed the street in pale light. Overhead, the moon waned, and the stars
twinkled like dying fireflies. Jason turned his eyes back to the road. He stood
at the playground, staring directly at the hole where the slide used to be.
What if they had been in that slide? What if Darlene had run into Talshe? Or
didn’t even see her coming? The questions pounded and pierced Jason’s brain. He
tried to quiet the noise, to think clearly. He tugged out a single thought. A
memory.

He turned and headed west along the
sidewalk just south of the playground. He passed an old church to his left and
rows of whitewashed, two-story houses to his right. The living rooms were lit
gold, the Technicolor of their T.V. sets flickering as he jogged by. The night
air was brisk and nippy, but couldn’t chill the butterflies in Jason’s chest.

Don’t leave, Darlene,
he thought.

He let his memory guide him west another
block, then south. Trees hung over the sidewalk like great umbrellas, shrouding
Jason in night. Many people in this part of town knew Jason and his father. The
graveyard workers in Len’s part of town couldn’t care less about Jason or what
he did, but the goody-two-
shoers
of the Church
District (as Jason liked to call it) would report any suspicious activity
because they felt it was their duty. Normally, Jason would respect that.
Tonight wasn’t normal.

Don’t leave,
he thought.

The trees and houses cleared, and he came
to a highway, which curved from the west and cut in front of him. On the other
side of the road a hilly expanse of fenced-in pasture rolled into the distance.
Horses and sheep would prance here.
They’re sleeping now,
thought Jason.
Coyotes come out at night. Everything’s more dangerous at night.

Southwest of the field stood two baseball
diamonds, one much smaller than the other. The concession stand squatted
between them. A large parking lot made of gravel lay north of these. Jason
jogged across it, his eyes darting back and forth. Already he could see a blot
forming on the bench in one of the bigger diamond’s dugouts. Twenty feet away,
the blot grew a head and arms. It was hunched over, convulsing. Crying, but
here. Alive.

Darlene didn’t look up even when Jason sat
down next to her. He’d found her here once before. Jason remembered the day. If
he could’ve, he would’ve smiled.

“He’s still a dick,” said Jason.

Darlene didn’t say anything.

“I mean, couldn’t he see you were bigger,
stronger, and better than most of the boys on his team? You would’ve been a
huge asset.”

Darlene looked up. “You calling me fat?”

“If the helmet fits, Smokey.”

“Don’t call me that. Douche-rockets don’t
get to call me that.”

“Growls like a bear, but looks so soft and
cuddly. Just like a teddy bear.” Jason spread his arms. “Come on, we could both
use a hug.”

“Fuck off, McKinney.”

Jason crossed his arms. “
Y’know
, I can’t apologize enough. I’ve done stupid things
before. How long have you known me, Darlene? Do you think I meant what I said?”

“I don’t know. Do you?”

Tears stung the edge of his eyes. “You’re
my bro, Darlene. Who you are doesn’t make a difference. Let me apologize.
Please.”

“Fine. Say you’re sorry.”

“I am sorry. The sorriest cracker in the
whole world.”

Darlene snorted. “You say it so
straight-faced.”

“Right now, I can’t say it any other way.”
Jason leaned back. “Look, my emotions aren’t right. They’re numb, and I can’t
feel them even if I wanted to. Most of the time I’m mellow, like this.
Recently, I’ve been jumping between anger and depression. Then coming back to
Neutral HQ.”

Jason couldn’t see well at night, but he
thought there might be red under Darlene’s eyes. How long had she been crying?
Had leaving ever crossed her mind? Leaving for good?

Just like Tara Engel?

His tears pushed out, crawling down his
cheeks. Darlene wiped her own eyes, then dabbed at Jason’s. “I’m sorry,” she
said. “I know your dreams are sealed. You haven’t been the same since.
Especially not since...
y’know
...I thought maybe you
were just grieving. But then I thought, ‘A year’s too long to grieve.’ But you
and Tara...”

“Forth,” he said.

“Huh?”

“Forth. It’s a word of power. I have to
say it, otherwise my body will shut down. Literally.”

Darlene’s mouth flopped open. “I...I
didn’t know that.”

“I hadn’t told you. I didn’t want you to
worry. Hell, it won’t matter in a couple of days.”

“Your birthday.”

He nodded.

The cool breeze gently caressed their hair
and faces. Jason kicked a small pebble across the dugout, and the stone
skittered, dinging against a metal support beam. Darlene stood, stretched out,
and then turned to Jason with a smile.

“Apology accepted, Jiggy.”

“Really? That’s an old name.”

“
Classic
name.”

“Okay, Smokey.” And he stood. “Friends
again?”

“We were never
not
friends.”

“Good.
Cuz
I
have a wild story to tell you.”

As he recounted the past couple of days,
Jason wished he could use real emotions. Of course, Darlene now knew about his
issue, and she’d never had a problem believing Jason before. Darlene was a
mage. She’d probably heard of the Dream Catcher and Caller at school.

“Dream what-
er
?”

“You’ve never heard of the Dream Catcher?
Or the Dream Caller?”

“No, not really.”

This bothered Jason. The Dream Caller
alone seemed like an important subject. A mage who turned bad, that could turn
any dream into solid reality? It would be popular fodder for high school
legend. But no matter how much Jason prodded her, Darlene couldn’t seem to
recall hearing about these magi.

“But you believe me, right?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“It all sounds crazy. A giantess. A blood-red
dog. Twins and a mysterious train. It’s a little hard to believe.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. I believe
you.” Darlene shifted, a sly grin spreading across her lips. “Besides, I’ll get
to know that girl better. What’s her name...Lenmana?”

“She likes being called Len.” Jason leaned
back, crossing his arms. “And take it easy. I think she wants to know you,
too.” Then, he thought of something. “Have you been having any bad dreams
lately?”

“Hm...No, not really. I’ve had quite a few
good dreams, actually. Why?”

This made Jason smile on the inside. On
the outside, he just nodded. “Curious is all.”

As they stood to leave, Jason heard the
whistle of a train coming from the direction of his house. Darlene turned in
the same direction.

“There isn’t a train that far over by your
house, is there?”

Jason didn’t reply. After a moment, the
train whistle rent the air again, and he looked over to Darlene. “Mind coming
with me?”

“Course not, Jiggy.”

***

They made good time getting back to the
McKinney house. The house lights were on, and this sent up a red flag. His
father, in all that Jason could remember, never came home this early on a
Friday night. But Mr. McKinney’s Audi was parked in the driveway and the living
room curtains were pulled shut. Jason and Darlene hadn’t heard the whistle
since they left the baseball diamond, but Jason could almost feel the rumble of
metal wheels
cuh
-clunking
on railroad
tracks. Anxiety crackled inside Jason’s chest as he twisted the doorknob and
pushed inside.

Mr. McKinney was hunched over on the
couch, arms barred across his thighs. He looked up at Jason, then glanced over
across the room at his guests: four heavily-armored men. Paladins. Sirin was
among them, scowling. Their leader had just sat down; he had platinum hair and brown
skin. His torso was a V of muscle hidden beneath heavy steel and a red cloak.
Rashan, the Fire Paladin, could steal the breath from just about anyone foolish
enough to stare into the sharp angles of his face.